HAVE you ever noticed that by far the larger number of early-flowering plants have yellow blossoms? It is early March, but such a bright, breezy morning; as we cross the fields we cannot fail to notice the deep yellow of the coltsfoot, while the bees are humming a welcome to the paler buttercups, and diving into their paler flower-cups in quest of honey. The golden balls of the dandelion are everywhere. We call it a weed, but it is really a very pretty flower; in France its leaves are largely used as salads, and its roots are of use in medicine. All these flowers belong to the same family, called “composites," In the garden we shall be almost sure to find yellow crocuses, and, perhaps, a few sprays of wall-flower.
How is it that so many early flowers are yellow? Those who have studied the subject tell us that as all color depends upon the action of the sun's rays; and as yellow requires less light and heat to develop it than any other color, the early flowers seem messengers sent to remind us that the winter is passing, and spring is already on its way. If you wish to try for yourselves the effect of light, take a plant, shut it up in a dark room, or cellar; do not forget to give it a little water from time to time, it may live, but notice how pale and sickly and almost colorless the leaves are. It cannot thrive. Without light and warmth, how soon we should droop and die!
And our souls have real needs; without light and warmth there can be no vigorous, healthy growth; no fruit of the Spirit. We can only get light and warmth by keeping near Christ; He is the true and only Light-giver. When the Lord was on earth, He said, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:1212Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. (John 8:12).) But man put out the Light. The holy, sinless Son of God was, "by wicked hands crucified and slain"; but the grave could not hold Him; nor the weight “of all our sins detain Him prisoner in the guarded tomb.”
LOOK UP!
“To that bright glory
Where rejected He has gone;
Bearing marks of all the hatred
Of a world He sought in love.”
But we must not forget what we really came out to seek; the early-scented violets. We shall not find them in the open meadow; we must search for them on some mossy bank in the hedgerow, or in the woods. Perhaps it will make our flower talks and stories still more interesting if we learn the names and uses of the different parts of a flower. We have all seen and admired the graceful fuchsia. It is what botanists call a perfect flower, that is one which has all the parts we are going to speak of; some flowers have not all these parts, A perfect flower has four circles, one within the other. The calyx is the first or outside circle. The calyx is really one piece, though in some flowers it is deeply divided; it is only a figure, but it may remind us of something far more important; The Church of Christ, which is composed of all true believers, though to our eyes it looks so divided. The second circle is the corolla, or flower cup, which is sometimes in one piece, and sometimes in more. These pieces are called petals. In the fuchsia the corolla, or blossom consists of four petals. The third circle has four little stems called stamens. Some flowers have a great many stamens. The stamens are tiny thread-like stalks inside the flower, which have a very small rounded point or points called anthers, when fully ripe they are covered with a beautiful yellow dust, called pollen. The fourth and last circle is the pistil. The pistil has a small head, sometimes shaped like the head of a pin, while in other flowering plants it appears cleft into three. This little head is called the stigma. The stigma is really a mouth, which receives the golden dust that falls upon it from the anthers of the stamens.
But, perhaps, you are getting tired of our botany lesson. The names of the different parts of a flower are really not difficult to remember, and, if we keep them in mind, they will help us to see in the most common flowers proofs of the wisdom and goodness of God we might not otherwise have noticed.
Some years ago I read a very interesting account of how the fuchsia, which is really a native of warmer lands than ours, first became common in England.
About eighty years ago, Mr. West, who was at that time a well-known florist and nurseryman, was passing through Ratcliffe Highway. It was a very poor neighborhood. Most of the people who lived in the small, uncomfortable looking houses that crowded each other so closely, were the wives and families of sea-faring men. It certainly was not a very pleasant walk, but business had called Mr. West in that direction, and he kept steadily on.
Suddenly he stopped before a cottage window, and for some minutes stood still, gazing with delight at a large and beautiful fuchsia, almost covered with lovely crimson blossoms. It was a flower he had never seen before, and, as he looked carefully at it, he saw it would not be difficult to rear young plants by means of slips taken from the parent stem. It was, he felt sure a prize, which, if possible, he must secure. Entering the cottage, he asked the owner of the fuchsia several questions. Her husband, who was, she said, a sailor, had brought it from abroad, and, on his return from his last voyage given it to her; she could not remember the name of the place where he told her the pretty flower grew, but it had done well in her window.
“Was she willing to sell it?" At first she was not willing, but she had been ill, her rent was in arrear, and when her visitor offered all the money he had in his purse, quite a large sum, she consented, and Mr. West carried it off, well pleased with his afternoon's work. On reaching home he stripped it of its blossoms, and cut it into slips, these he placed under glass in his forcing-house. Weeks and months of patient waiting followed; then he had several young fuchsias just opening their buds. Two only were on view at one time. The beauty of the new and rare plant attracted great attention, and all his young plants sold at a high price. At first only rich people were their owners; but, by degrees, they became quite common, and on the South coast of England, and in the Isle of Wight, grow well in the open air. It is pleasant to remember that Mr. West did not forget the sailor's wife, but sent her one of his best plants, with a substantial money present.
The scent of the violets will often guide us to the spot where they grow. Here are a few, half-hidden by leaves. Gather them carefully, for they will not bear rough handling. The small white or blue-scented violet is a type of humility. A little later in the year we shall find plenty of the larger, or dog violet, but it is scentless. The violet never seeks to attract attention to itself. Content with a lowly place it sheds its fragrance on the air, and seems the very breath of spring. May it not remind us of One Who was “meek and lowly in heart," Whose whole path from the manger to the Cross, was a sweet savor unto God?
There are eight species of British violets, but only one is scented.
Children's Flowers
Violets white and violets blue,
Violets wet with early dew;
Violets blue and violets white,
Bathed in beautiful morning light;
Whisper it softly, a message true,
What is the work ye have come to do?
The children gathered us white and blue,
With a joy that is ever fresh and new;
They spied us out in each cool retreat,
Where the ripple of waters was low and sweet,
From pleasant homes in the woodland shade,
From hedgerow green, or mossy glade.
They bade us go to some darkened room,
With forms of beauty to cheer its gloom;
To blossom awhile by the bed of pain,
To whisper, “The Spring has come again”
Children whose faces are white and sad,
Have a welcome for us, a welcome glad.
Primroses yellow, and fresh and cool,
Prom mossy bank, or wayside pool.
The children gathered you, one by one,
When lessons were over, and tasks were done,
Prom leafy homes, where wild birds sing,
Say, ' What is the message you come to bring '?
Are ye not like us, ye children of earth?
To have sighs in its sorrow, and songs in its mirth,
Ye, too, are fading, and passing away;
Are ye children of night, or children of day?
Are ye trusting a love that for aye must endure,
Have ye drunk of the waters life-giving and pure?
Have you not a volume wherein ye may read,
Of love that is wondrous, peerless indeed?
Have ye not heard how the blest Son of GOD,
As Jesus, the Savior, obedient trod,
The pathway that led Him to suffer and die,
Now risen and living, He's pleading on high.